


Scraps From A Life

by Query87 (Jeanne152)



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 17:24:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15689970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanne152/pseuds/Query87
Summary: It rains.It rains, the water drops seemingly heavier than normal. A heavy rain that makes his suit soaked in seconds, but he doesn't care. He needs to do this. He has to be here because......well, it's his funeral.It feels so wrong. It shouldn't end like this. They were supposed to have forever. They should've been on Tracy Island, celebrating Christmas with the others. John had even promised to come down so they could all be together. Life dealt them a different card, though. A card that Virgil would have loved to trade, but he couldn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These are just a couple of fics (prompts?) I made while I was bored. They are set after Season 2, and was written in total disregard for Season 3. Which, I actually really really wanted to watch, but now, there's no time to watch. SCHOOL :(
> 
> And yet, here I am, scouring through AO3... :p
> 
> Well, read on. Hopefully you'll like it. If you don't, well, that's not my problem, is it? ;)
> 
> Query87, signing out!

_I'll be home for Christmas_   
_You can count on me_   
_Please have snow and mistletoe_   
_And presents on the tree_

 

_Christmas Eve will find me_   
_Where the love light gleams_   
_I'll be home for Christmas_   
_If only in my dreams..._   


* * *

Virgil felt like he could cry. There was a twinge of sadness every time he came into the living room, more so when his gaze landed on the pile of instruments near his piano.When International Rescue first started, there was only the piano. It had been Lucille's, but when she had died, the piano became Virgil's. It wasn't acknowledged openly, and Virgil would deny it if it was ever mentioned, but everyone knew it. He was the only one to ever play it. He knew that Scott and John had been mentored by Lucille as well, but ever since her death, they never touched a piano again. It was as if they were afraid of it.

 

Still, Virgil kept on playing. He had been her best protegé after all. He maintained her legacy, even after Jeff had stopped playing his guitar as well. It was as if Lucille's death also implied the death of music in the family.

It all changed, though, when Larry came in.Virgil swore that even in Day 1, Larry couldn't keep far from his MP3 player. It was an ancient thing, sometimes filled with more ancient songs, but Larry loved it. It could cause a nuisance, especially when Scott was talking to him and it turned out that Larry had his headphones on.So it wasn't all that surprising that when Virgil was playing one day, it was Larry who jumped in, humming softly to the tune while his hands tapped a perfect beat for the song. Virgil, interested, had asked if Larry played an instrument. When Larry had casually answered that he played the guitar, Virgil joked that he should bring it the next time he came around so they could play together.Virgil didn't expect Larry to take it seriously and bring an actual guitar with him the next time he came to the island after a patrol with Kayo. One thing led to another, and Virgil somehow found himself playing "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake. It was a rock song, but hey, there was nothing wrong with making an accoustic version.Moreover, it was a  _spontaneously-made_  accoustic version. So he was allowed to make some mistakes.To his surprise, Larry grinned and began to sing along. _I don't know where I'm going_  
 _But I sure know where I've been_  
 _Hanging on the promises in the songs of yesterday_  
 _And I've made up my mind_  
 _I ain't wasting no more time_  
 _Here I go again_  
 _Here I go again_ He had an "okay" voice. Not as good as Steven Tyler, but that guy was a legend. You had to be crazy good to sing notes that high. _Though I keep searching for an answer_  
 _I never seem to find what I'm looking for_  
 _Oh, Lord, I pray, You give me strength to carry on_  
 _'Cause I know what it means to walk along the lonely street of dreams_ At this point, Virgil stopped playing the piano. Because in the song, it was time for the electric guitars to "let 'er rip." There was no way Virgil could match them with a piano. A  _grand piano_ , nonetheless. A keyboard could probably do the trick, but a piano? No way in hell.Luckily, Larry was pretty quick to play his part. He expertly plucked the strings of his guitar, occasionally using fingerstyle techniques. And this time, it was Virgil who sang. Playing without singing was hard enough. And Larry had helped him out with the first verses. _And here I go again on my own_  
 _Going down the only road I've known_  
 _Like a drifter I was born to walk alone_  
 _And I've made up my mind_  
 _I ain't wasting no more time_ This time, Larry stopped playing, allowing Virgil to take the wheel. But to his surprise, Larry didn't sing the next verse alone. There was someone else singing. Virgil turned to see  _John_ , of all people, on the topmost staircase, singing with a smile as he gazed down on them. _I'm just another heart in need of rescue_  
 _Waiting on love's sweet charity_  
 _And I'm gonna hold on for the rest of my days_  
 _'Cause I know what it means to walk along the lonely street of dreams_

 

Once again, Larry took over for Virgil, this time a bit earlier than he did the first time. Grinning as he saw John coming down the stairs, Virgil stopped playing and began singing in harmony to John's voice for the chorus.

_And here I go again on my own_  
 _Going down the only road I've ever known_  
 _Like a drifter I was born to walk alone_  
 _And I've made up my mind_  
 _I ain't wasting no more time_ Once the verse was over, Virgil began playing some of the chords while Larry kept on with his guitar to take the part of the lead guitarist. Inwardly, Virgil doubted that John could sing the next part. He'd struggled for the chorus, and Virgil was forced to use valsetto for the harmony. The notes were  _crazy_ high. Glancing at John, Virgil could see that John had some doubts himself. Virgil couldn't blame him. He probably would've done the same thing. As John froze in uncertainty, another voice took over for him. The voice was loud and clear, the epitome of experience and skill. He had obviously sang rock songs before.It was Scott. _But here I go again_  
 _Here I go again_  
 _Here I go again_  
 _Here I go..._ Out of surprise and awe, both Virgil and Larry stopped playing, gaping as Scott entered the room with a newspaper in hand. Even John, who was usually more in control of his emotions, had managed to look quite surprised.

 

And so, the ice had been broken, and music once again returned to the Tracy family. The piano began to have more company as each family member returned to their respective passions in music. Alan showed up with a boom box he'd secretly been learning how to play since he was a teenager. Gordon, unsurprisingly, showed up with a harmonica. It was the only thing small enough to be concealed so he could take it with him on missions. The harmonica distracted him from boredom while he was stuck in Thunderbird 4 (which had happened more times than he'd care to admit). John took up guitar as well, saying that Jeff had taught him the basics once and that Larry could use another guitarist for rock songs. Scott, having completely forgotten Lucille's piano lessons (not his fault that they were so hard) had decided to stick to singing. Even Grandma Tracy bought a marracas while Kayo revealed that she knew how to play the clarinet. Only Brains had shied away, claiming that he wasn't very good at music. And even then, Virgil still caught him clapping along to several songs.

Their musical sessions became a regular thing. It became a routine they would always do at the end of the day, no matter how late it was when they all finally got together. Virgil never realized how good it was to play with other people until then, and he was afraid to lose it.When the Hood was killed in the GDF raid, Virgil assumed that Larry would stay with them. He did. It took a bit (read: a lot) of persuasion, but the Tracys managed to convince him that it would spare him the necessity to fly to Tracy Island before going to missions, and that it would also be easier for him to keep his identity as an IR member a secret. So, he sold his apartment in L.A. and moved in to the guest room in Tracy Island.It was all good. Everything fell into routine again, even more so now that Larry was officially a part of the family. He still couldn't completely let go of hockey, though, which was the reason for his weekly travels to L.A. to play with his team in the weekends. The Tracys never watched him play as they never had the time, but they still kept a close eye on him. Heaven knows how injury-prone he was. The arrangement worked perfectly, and all went well.That was, until two weeks ago.

 

Larry had gone to a rescue on Christmas Eve. It should've been Scott, but Scott had been laid up with a broken ankle, so Larry and his Chaser was sent out to help Virgil. Scott had threatened to drag him back home himself if Larry failed to show up in time for breakfast, to which Larry had joked that only the Grim Reaper himself could stop him.

No one realized how true his words were.

 

Everything was going so well. Luck wasn't on their side, though. Somehow, some way, Chaser's engines seized up in the middle of a take off and the plane stalled. With no time to recover, Larry crashed.

 

Virgil had tried his best to drag Larry out and buckled him in inside Two before rushing to the nearest hospital, but he was too late. The doctors later said that his lungs were punctured and they collapsed. There was nothing they could do.

 

Virgil absent-mindedly noticed how his cheeks had become wet, but he didn't care. Larry had never been home in the last two weeks and it had hurted. It hurted so much. Music meant a lot to Virgil, and so did a lot of things associated with it. His mother. His father. How happy Scott and John were during their music sessions. All the good memories he had experienced when they spent time together in the living room, playing to some unseen rhythm.

 

Larry was the one to bring all those back. Larry was the reason they started the routine. It's one of the many reasons Virgil loves - no,  _loved_  - him.

 

God, talking about Larry in past tense hurt. Yet another death. Another possibility for everything to be yanked away from him again.

Virgil choked back a sob as he noticed how dusty the instruments were. He went to them and ran his hand along the surface, the tip of his fingers picking up a considerable amount of dust. Forcing the tears to keep at bay, Virgil sat down in front of the piano. By instinct, he looked to the couch, mouth open and almost asking what music they would play. His heart plummeted at the sight of an empty couch, the familiar faces not there. He looked down to the piano keys and rested his hands on their smooth, cool surface. There were dust on it. It was a thin layer, but it was there. It felt strangely soothing, and yet alien at the same time. He almost couldn't imagine what it would feel like to play alone again. His fingers hovered above the notes, hesitant. It was as if he was afraid to break them should he try to touch; as if the world would shatter should the piano began playing.Virgil closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself down. And then, with his eyes closed, he moved automatically, fingers dancing on the notes as if nothing ever happened.Lost in the music, Virgil barely thought of the chords he was playing. He didn't think. Playing didn't require much effort or thought; it never did for Virgil. The music flowed as easily as it always did. And this particular song felt  _right_  for Virgil. It was effortless and graceful and perfect with all of its dynamics.He didn't think about it until he heard someone singing softly from behind him. _Though I keep searching for an answer_  
 _I never seem to find what I'm looking for_  
 _Oh, Lord, I pray, You give me strength to carry on_  
 _'Cause I know what it means to walk along the lonely street of dreams..._

 

Virgil's hands stopped in mid-air, just like he did when he'd first played the song with Larry. But this time, there was no reply from his guitar. Only silence. Deathly silence. And Virgil knew there would never be a reply. Never ever. Not from Larry. Not from John who'd locked himself up in his Thunderbird since it happened. Not from Alan and Gordon who'd worked non-stop with Lady Penelope to find out why the crash had happened. All signs pointed that it was an accident. A fluke. An accident that made him lost everything.

And just like that, Virgil broke down.

 

He sobbed, his head resting against the piano as his shoulders shook. It hurted. To see Larry die in such a painful way wasn't easy. It was horrible. Virgil literally watched him choke in his own blood. No one should've gone through that, least of all Larry.

 

_Why did life have to be so unfair?_  The question kept ringing over and over in Virgil's mind. First his mother. Then Scott nearly died in the Air Force. His father went missing in a mission, and was, presumably, dead. And now Larry.

Even after so many loss, Virgil couldn't find an answer. Instead, the question seemed to be louder and more daunting than ever. From one death to another, it never became easier. It felt as heart-wrenching as before.It took a few minutes for Virgil to realize that someone was sitting beside him on the chair. He barely noticed the feeling of an arm draped over his shoulder, pulling him closer so he could lean on the man. _Scott_ , Virgil identified through the blue-sleeved arm that pulled him to a warm embrace.His eldest brother drew comforting circles on Virgil's back, the act somehow having a calming effect on the Tracy. "It's all right, Virgil," Scott whispered soothingly. "I'm here."Feeling emotionally drained all of a sudden, Virgil weakly shook his head. "Larry's not here, Scott," he murmured. "He's gone. It's not all right."There was a sigh from Scott. "I know, Virgil," Scott said at last, leaning his head on Virgil's shoulder. "But we keep pushing on. We continue International Rescue. That's what Larry would've wanted. He'd never let us live it down if we stop."A dry laugh escaped from Virgil. "He never did let you live down that one time you mistake the Penguins with the Bruins," he said, smiling at the memory. It was a long time ago. Virgil, Scott and John had walked in on Larry watching a hockey game on TV. It was a day off, which was rare enough. Even more unusual was the fact that John was down.

 

It was a game between the Penguins and the Golden Knights. And Scott, despite having watched a fair share of hockey, still asked how the  _Bruins_  managed to beat the Golden Knights 4-1 halfway through the first period. For weeks afterwards, Larry wore a Penguins jersey every chance he got. When Virgil questioned him about it, he had said that it was to make Scott realize the difference between the two and not mistake the best team in the league for the tenth worst. Because, really, the only reason the Bruins won games was their kick-ass goaltender.

Scott, reminded of the memory, chuckled. "He loved hockey.""Everyone knows that," Virgil pointed out. And it was true. Hockey meant everything to Larry. He'd told Virgil once that he became a fighter pilot because he wasn't able to turn professional in hockey. Virgil wasn't surprised in the least. Larry made his love of hockey very obvious.

 

Luckily for all of them, Larry could cope with street hockey on roller blades, which meant they didn't have to install an ice rink for him. While they did the same for Gordon with the swimming pool, at least everyone could use said pool. Everyone could swim. But none of them could skate. Virgil knew from the amount of experience they had when they went to an ice rink with Kayo the last time they were off the island. The girl could actually skate, and had admitted that she considered becoming a professional figure skater, but she didn't have the commitment. John, whose senses were always a mess on land, was a total klutz on ice. Scott skated like a five-year-old, and didn't look to be getting better anytime soon. Gordon didn't even bother to try. He just watched them from the bench. Virgil himself face-planted the exact second his skates hit the ice. Between the five of them, Alan seemed to be the most decent skater. He couldn't go fast, but at least he could do a full lap without falling.

Larry, on the other hand, would have skated circles around them.

 

Virgil froze. They never did watch Larry play. Not even once. They never made the time for it. Now, Virgil wondered how good Larry actually was. He couldn't imagine. Hell, he didn't even know what Larry's position was in the team. For all Virgil knew, he could've been a goaltender and the team captain!

 

"We never watched him play," Virgil muttered, feeling tears threatening to escape again.

Scott sighed. "No, we didn't."

 

Virgil closed his eyes and whimpered. "I wish we did. I wish we watched him play just one time." Tears began to fall down his cheeks. It had hurted, realizing that you never supported a person's passion for something special, that you never cared about it. He wondered if Larry felt that way. He hoped not. Virgil would never forgive himself if that was the case.

 

Scott stared at Virgil. Under the evening sun, his face seemed to take on a reddish hue, and his blue eyes seemed to sparkle all the brighter. "There's nothing we can do about it now, Virgil," Scott said. He looked into Virgil's gaze. "But yeah. I want to see him play. Just once." 

 

* * *

 

Background details for those who might get confused:

  1. The entire story is set after season 2. The Hood and the Mechanic both escaped. Kayo figured out that with this unexpected turn of events, it's more than likely that more than one of them could be attacked at the same time. She suggested that Scott hire someone who can fight off the bad guys should an attack ever happen. And that's where Larry comes in. In the end, the GDF discovered the Hood's secret base and raided it. The Hood got killed in said raid, and the Mechanic never appeared again after that, having dropped completely off the radar.
  2. Larry is my OC. He is Scott's trainee back when Scott was an instructor in the Air Force. They both resigned after a joint mission with the GDF went wrong and most of their squadron got killed. Their squadmates' deaths were covered up as a training gone wrong, which couldn't be further from the truth. Neither of them could accept the lousy cover-up, so they quitted.
  3. Chaser is an experimental fighter built by AlCorp (a made-up company) that Larry is testing. It stands for Counterstrike High Agility Stealth Fighter. Initially, Chaser is used for IR mission to test its limits. In the end, it is given to the Thunderbirds and Larry keeps flying it. Since it is not created as a Thunderbird, it does not have a Thunderbird callsign or a special patch. Larry also does not wear a blue Thunderbird uniform, only his gray flight suit plus a white sash. He is a Thunderbird, though. Unofficially.
  4. These are minor details but I'll put these in anyways. The (Pittsburgh) Penguins, the (Vegas) Golden Knights and the (Boston) Bruins are ice hockey teams playing for the NHL. (And despite being a hockey fan, at first, I also cannot tell the difference between a Penguins jersey and a Bruins jersey apart from their logos.) Also, I wrote this fic assuming the Golden Knights suck, since expansion teams usually do in their first year. Who would've thought they made it all the way to the Stanley Cup Finals? :)




	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set some time before the first chapter. Probably a few months earlier? I don't know.

 

Virgil looks to the raging sea beneath him, surrounding the small fishing boat that has fallen on its side and in the middle of sinking. He has a clear view on the people clinging on the wreckage for dear life. Holding on seems like the best option for them, given the harsh waves and huge storms in the area. Even Thunderbird Two struggles to hold her own ground, and she is the most stable between the Thunderbirds.

 

Virgil opens the comm that links him to Gordon. "Hey, Gordon. You and Larry ready back there?" For this rescue, Gordon and Larry tagged along. It's a given since it's usual for Gordon to help Virgil, and Scott has ordered Larry to go with Gordon. It makes sense. The fishing boat is a pretty big one, and there are a lot of people inside. If Gordon is to do it alone, the whole thing will take too long, and God knows how long Thunderbird Two can hold on. Hopefully with Larry to help them, they'd be finished in no time.

 

"Yeah, Virg." Through the static, Virgil can hear the gustle of wind, pretty audible through Gordon's comm. He must've opened the bay doors. "How many of them are there supposed to be?"

 

Virgil doesn't know that. But someone else does. "Around 30, Thunderbird 4," John answers, his hologram appearing on Virgil's dashboard. Virgil looks at him, marvels at how John seems to juggle all the data suspended in front of him and doing it calmly.

 

"Shit." Larry. "I only counted 14."

 

"16," Gordon corrects him. "Don't forget those two right below us."

 

There is a pause. Virgil assumes that Larry is now looking down to find the two people he missed. "They're not holding onto anything!"

 

Virgil tenses. He knows how cold the water can be, and how strong the current is. With the call for help received half an hour ago, it's a miracle that they managed to swim for so long. "Gordon, Larry, go. Get those two first."

 

"FAB, Thunderbird Two."

 

Virgil turns to John, still focused on the data in front of him. "John, if there are 30 people down there and we can only see 16, where are the other 14?"

 

John, after staring at another piece of data, turns to face Virgil, eyes grim. "Scanner shows them to be trapped inside the boat. There are 11 people under there."

 

...11? That means... "The other 3?"

 

John shakes his head. "I can't find them. Scanner only picked up 27 people out of 30."

 

Damn it. "FAB, John. I'll inform Gordon and Larry." He switches to another comm channel. "Gords? You there?"

 

"Yeah," comes the reply from his younder brother. Virgil hears him breathing hard. Not a surprise, especially in this conditions. "We just secured two people. What's the news?"

 

"John's scanner picked up 27 people."

 

"But I only counted 16," Gordon says, confused.

 

Virgil takes a deep breath. "They're either under the boat or in it. Gordon, do you think you can do it?"

 

There's a chuckle. Then a splash. "We'll never know till we try, right?" Gordon is practically gasping right now. He must've jumped down to look for more people.

 

"FAB." Virgil looks at the wreckage below him and examines it. The structure looks pretty rigid. It must've tipped over because of the waves. Virgil can see no punctured hull anywhere to indicate a run-in with an iceberg. "John, how long do you think until the ship sinks?"

 

"No less than half an hour," comes the answer. "You better be prepared to hold the ship up to buy them some time."

 

That's what Virgil thinks, too. "FAB, John. Readying the grappler." He knows for a fact that the ship's hull is made of metal, so keeping it from sinking should not be a problem. Especially with the ship smaller in size than the plane itself.

 

"4 down, 26 to go." Virgil frowns. Larry does know that John can only pick up 27 living people, doesn't he? When he asks this to him, in the middle of him plunging back into the dark sea, he hears a laughing reply. "Yeah, but I bet the families would want the bodies returned for a funeral, Virg."

 

Oh, yeah. Virgil hadn't thought about that. "Okay, but only of it's possible. Safety first, Larry."

 

"FAB."

 

Virgil watches as the rescue goes on beneath him. He sees Gordon and Larry going back and forth between Thunderbird Two and the boat, weaving through the current with the rescued people nearby. He can only imagine what it feels like down there.

 

...

 

Not for the first time, Larry wonders if agreeing to Scott's idea is a good decision. One, Scott is the guy who coerced the entire squadron into pranking the Commander and the sole reason Larry was forced to spend an entire week cleaning the latrines. The guy probably has some questionable decision-making skills (He doesn't know why he still trusts Scott after that, but hey, he trusts him. Maybe that guy has some weird goalie powers that forces him to do it. Only he isn't a goalie and he doesn't even play hockey. He can't even fucking skate. Psychic powers, then. Or Thunderbird power. Whatever, Larry just can't tell anymore.) Two, he doesn't like water that much. Well, he can swim and he likes to spend laps in the swimming pool occasionally, but he doesn't like it that much to be willing to swim around in the middle of a storm. There's nothing he can do about it, though. Except maybe wishing to not get hit by a lightning. If he remembers his high school physics right, the higher the mineral content in a water, the easier it is for electricity to travel. It has something to do with ions or some shit. But if that's the case...

 

Nope. Stop thinking about it. Focus on the people you need to rescue.

 

Larry hears a shout to his left, and sees a fisherman trying to wave at him. It's not an easy task to do in the middle of a storm when you also have to hold onto the slippery pieces of your ship just to stay afloat. Larry doesn't waste time to get to him. "I got you," he says, an arm circling around the man's body while the other keeps moving to keep them both afloat.

 

The man looks at him, panicking. "I can't swim!" he blurts out. Larry notices how he's hyperventilating, probably because of the entire situation and how cold the water is. It can't be good.

 

"I got you, sir." Larry maintains eye contact, making sure the fisherman is focused on him. He can't have the guy panicking even more and making things harder for him. "Stop struggling. It'll be easier for me to swim you back to the Thunderbird."

 

The man nods, jerkily, so Larry assumes that he gets it. Cool. Tightening his hold around the man, Larry begins swimming back towards Thunderbird Two. True to his word, the fisherman didn't struggle, and Larry's grateful for it. He needs every ounce of strength he has since Thunderbird Two is still a few yards away. They couldn't risk the jet wash of the huge Thunderbird making the ship more unstable or adding another difficulty for the fishermen to hold onto the wreckage. Larry recounts the number of people already on Thunderbird Two. He's saved seven (including the one he's holding right now) while Gordon's saved nine. That only leaves the guys trapped inside the boat.

 

_That_ is going to be hard.

 

"I'll take it from here."

 

Larry snaps out of it to find Gordon in front of him, smiling. His arms are open, ready to take the fisherman that Larry has been helping so far. "Okay," Larry nods, letting Gordon take the man. "I'm taking a look inside the boat."

 

Once Gordon nods his affirmative, Larry takes off. It's easier to swim without the feel of a person weighing him down, but nevertheless, he can still sense the fatigue seeping in his bones. He braces himself as he nears the boat. Only the hull is now visible, the boat completely turned over. It'd only be a matter of minutes before the boat goes under.

 

He's racing against time.

 

Taking a deep breath, Larry plunges in. He's grateful for the breathing apparatus and the swimming goggles that he has. There's no way he'll get through the entire rescue without them. It's really thoughtful of Brains to get those for him in the last minute.

 

He looks around, eyes scanning the boat for a way in. He finds the door to the cabin. He swims to it, grips the door handle, and yanks with all his might.

 

The door won't open.

 

He peeks through the glass. He notices that there is still some air inside, the room flooded by only three quarters of its capacity. He yanks again, and fails. Inside, he can see several people, all trying to break a window to get out. Some of the wall is breached with water coming through, the place filling up quickly. Wasn't there a Mythbusters episode about drowning in a sinking car? That's a pretty similar situation, right? But that means that Larry has to wait for the room to be  _completely filled_ with water before he can open it. He's not sure the people inside have the luxury of waiting. What if some of them are injured?

 

Plan B it is, then.

 

Larry swims to the front of the ship. He sees an open hatch on the deck which should lead to the engine room. He knows that there should be another hatch in the engine room which leads to the command room which, conveniently, happens to be right next to the cabin. If he can get inside the engine room and into the command room, he can just open the door to the cabin.

 

Simple.

 

Larry swims through the flooded engine room. It looks like a mess, and he hears the entire structure creaking ominously. Looking around, everything seems like they'll hold together for now, but he can't take his chances.

 

A few yards in, Larry finds what he's looking for; the hatch into the command room. He doesn't see any hinges on it, which means that he needs to push it. It should be easier than trying to pull an airtight door open where the pressure at his side of the door is much, much bigger. And so, he gives it a push. Then another. But the hatch still won't budge, and Larry hears the unmistakable sound of metal scraping against metal.

 

The hatch is fucking locked. "Larry?"

 

Larry picks up his comm, grinning. Finally some help. "Hey, Gordon. Where are you?"

 

He hears Gordon breathing hard, and the sound of something being bashed on something. "Currently trying to open the door. Where are  _you?_  I could use a hand here, y'know?"

 

Larry laughs. "That ain't gonna work, buddy. You'll have a better bet with getting in from the engine room."

 

"How'd you know that?"

 

"High school physics." Larry looks back to the still-not-open hatch, and then an idea strikes him. Every engine room has a fire extinguisher somewhere, right? At least, they should. Larry looks around, hoping to find that familiar red tube. His eyes catches sight of it attached to the side of the wall. "Got it!"

 

He grabs it and begins aiming the tube towards the hatch and the nozzle facing away from it. Propping himself against the wall, he gets ready. One strong push from his legs propels himself towards the hatch, and he lets the squirt from the fire extinguisher carry the rest of his momentum. Just like a jet engine.

 

He feels the shock as he hits his shoulder on the hatch, ramming it wide open. He knows that it's probably dislocated now, but hey, at least the hatch is open now. He finds himself flung into the command room because of his speed and hits the windows back-first. He grunts in pain at the abuse, and hears the glass crack. He's been through worse. At least the glass doesn't completely break.

 

"Larry?" Gordon is practically shouting through the comm, and Larry winces. "What happened? Answer me!"

 

"Do you have to be so loud?" Larry hisses, moving away from the windows. "Get down here. I could use your help."

 

"Where are you?"

 

"Inside the command room. Get in here through the hatch from the engine room. You can get to the cabin from here." Not waiting for an answer, Larry gets to the door between the command room and the cabin. He notices that the people in the cabin have noticed his presence, and are already yanking at the door.

 

It opens without much difficulty.

 

"International Rescue!" a woman says, grinning. Larry glances at her outfit and realizes that she must be the captain of the ship. "Thank God you're here. There are some people back there who needs help."

 

An elderly man who comes in beside her nods in agreement. "One of the metal beams hit Matt. He's losing blood."

 

Uh-oh. Larry wishes that Virgil is here now, since he's the most medically capable out of all of them. It'll be easier to decide when you have someone to make sure you don't mess up. But he'll have to make do for now. "Um, okay." Larry nods to the elderly man. "Are you a doctor?"

 

"Not officially, but-"

 

Larry smiles. "That will have to do." He turns to face the captain. "Ma'am, I need you to help the rest of your crew out of here. You can get out through the engine room, it's pretty safe."

 

The woman looks at him skeptically, but nods at him nonetheless. Turning to her crew, she shouts, "Come on, boys! We'll get out through the engine room."

 

All the other people nodded, beginning to file out of the room in an orderly manner. "There is another IR member out there waiting for you," Larry informs them. "He'll get you to our aircraft." Through all this, Larry keeps his comms open, so he knows that Gordon and Virgil are listening. Hopefully.

 

"Larry." Gordon. "You sure you don't need any help?"

 

"Those people need more help than I do. Besides, I got one person trapped here. I'm going to get him."

 

"Be careful."

 

Larry turns towards the so-called doctor. He said he isn't an official doctor, so what is he? A vet? A paramedic? "Sir, lead the way."

 

The man nods and walks back into the cabin, followed closely by Larry. The cabin is a mess, flooded about waist-high. The normally organized bunks were thrown about and the water has turned a bit murky. Larry gets worried. Whoever got hurt in there doesn't have much time. With everything that'a going on, infection definitely will set in. Time is the key here. Wait too long and someone might lose a limb.

 

Matt, Larry finds, is somewhere near the back of the cabin. He's pinned against by a stray bumk that's somehow come loose. One of the bunk's metal railings has completely snapped off and pierced his stomach. Larry looks at the doctor. "I'll move the bunk before I move him. Is that safe?"

 

The "doctor" looks at Larry in alarm. "Aren't you the rescuer here? Shouldn't you know what to do?"

 

Okay. That's a good point, Larry admits. But they don't have time for this. Not if they want to save Matt. "Look, I know that we will have pull that beam off of him to get him out of here, and that if we do, we'll have seconds to stop the bleeding or he'll die. And frankly, all I know is the brief training I got a few years ago in the Air Force Academy. It's probably a far cry from what your friend needs right now. He needs you. I need your help here."

 

The doctor nods. "Okay." He looks around the room. "I don't think we have anything right now that can stop his bleeding that is hygienic. We do it here, he'll get infected."

 

"Okay, then." Larry looks back at Matt and sighs in relief. At least Matt is currently unconscious. "The hard way it is, then."

 

Larry runs back to the command room. He knows he saw an ax there. He could use that to completely cut off the beam that hit Matt free from the rest of it. He notices the doctor gaping at him when he comes back, but at least he doesn't say anything.

 

Larry aims his ax, and strikes.

 

CLANG!

 

The bent metal bends even more, straining to keep itself together.

 

CLANG!

 

He notices Matt stirring. The doctor notices as well, and comes to his side.

 

CLANG!

 

"What? Wha-"

 

CLANG!

 

"Calm down, Matt. You'll be safe soon."

 

CLANG!

 

Finally, the metal breaks free. "Let's get him out of here," Larry says, putting the ax down beside him. The doctor grabs Matt's shoulders while Larry gets his legs. Together, they managed to get Matt to the flooded command room. Larry looks at the engine room and how it's completely flooded. He looks at the doctor. "Doc, go ahead of us. Go to the engine room, go right and go straight ahead after that. There was a hatch. You can go out that way."

 

"But you'll need-"

 

"Just do it." He doesn't waste time to sling Matt's arm above his shoulders and grabs his waist, fully taking on his weight. After that, he takes off his mask and secures it to Matt's face. The man stirs and says something, but Larry can make out what it was. "Hey, you need this more than I do."

 

There's no answer.

 

"I'll take that as a yes." He turns to the doctor and nods at him. "Go. We'll be right behind you."

 

Thankfully, the doctor goes without protest, and Larry's quick to follow. From the way the doctor moves, Larry knows that the doctor is a fast swimmer. He'll be all right.

 

On the other hand...

 

Larry feels his lungs burning. He isn't a fast swimmer like Doc, not when he has Matt weighing him down. He doesn't know if he can do it. But he has to.

 

"Come on," Larry says to himself, barely audible in the water. The surface is there. Just a few hundred feet more. "Just a bit-"

 

He feels the air running out just then, accidentally gulping some water. He coughs a bit, slowing down as a result. Still, he kicks his legs, hoping it'll get him to the surface.

 

It feels like forever before he sees the storm-ridden skies.

 

Still coughing and gasping, Larry looks around. He finds Gordon currently helping the Doctor move up Thunderbird Two. Using every ounce of his remaining strength, Larry moves toward the big, fat green plane. He smiles. He knows he used to call the plane ugly, but right now, it looks like the most beautiful plane in the world.

 

He gets there just as Gordon's finished getting the doctor up Two. He looks up at both of them, Gordon easily distinguishable thanks to his blue suit. He reaches for his comms. "Gordon, can you hear me?"

 

"FAB. What's up?"

 

"I've got an injured guy here. A beam pierced his stomach. Send something down that won't worsen his injury when we get him up?"

 

"I'll send you a gurney."

 

Larry grins. Things are finally looking up. True to word, Gordon lowers the gurney. It's modified, so Larry knows it'll float. He moves to meet the gurney, easily lowering it. "Come on, Matt," he grunts out, straining to get Matt in the gurney. Once he's in, though, it's only a matter of snapping the straps. "Pull him up."

 

Larry looks on as the gurney is pulled up. Maybe that's why he doesn't see what happens next. Even if he does, there's probably no way for him to prevent it from happening.

 

There's a flash close to him, nearly blinding him. The next thing he knows, he feels as if his entire body has been shocked.

 

It shouldn't be possible, there was no-

 

Larry goes under. His body somehow wouldn't move and try to keep him afloat. Seizing or just locking up, Larry can't tell.

 

Larry tries again. And again. His arms still won't move, and neither will his legs. For the second time in an hour, Larry feels his lungs burning, and he coughs.

 

Somehow,  _that_ gets his limbs to move again.

 

Larry breaks surface as soon as he can, gasping and sputtering. His comms, which was muted thanks to the water he was fucking submerged in, is currently filled to the brim with chatter.

 

"Larry! Are you okay?"

 

He doesn't really recognize who that is, the voice too garbled for him to recognize. "Yeah," he says. He looks at Thunderbird Two, and moves to meet the extra line that Gordon must've dropped for him. "What the hell happened?"

 

"You didn't know?"

 

"Aside from nearly drowning because somehow I forgot how to move, no, I have no fucking clue."

 

"A lightning struck the water beside you," Gordon says. And wow, doesn't that explain everything. It fits that freakish light, at least. "Are you sure you okay?"

 

Larry rolls his eyes. He didn't figure that Gordon is a worry wart. Then again, a lightning strike can probably bring out the worry wart in everyone. "I know I'm not Frankenstein, so there's that." He hears Gordon laugh. He also didn't figure that Gordon read Frankenstein, either. "You read Frankenstein?"

 

"Back when I was in high school," Gordon says. "I didn't really like it, but the story is good."

 

Larry feels himself grinning. He grabs at the extra line. It's slippery, but he manages. "Better than To Kill A Mockingbird?"

 

"I don't really know." Larry feels Gordon pulling up the line. From the way it keeps moving without a single hitch, he figures that it's probably being pulled by a machine that Gordon whipped up from Thunderbird Two's cargo. "I mean, it's a really good novel. Both of them are. I just like Frankenstein better. More suspense, I guess."

 

Larry thinks about it. "But Mockingbird has that prison break thing. And the whole trial. Isn't that enough suspense?"

 

Gordon scoffs. "Mockingbird doesn't have those whole bringing-life-back-to-a-corpse thing going on."

 

"Point."

 

...

 

Larry figures that after they've gotten to a hospital and dropped off the boat survivors, they'd get straight home. (Well, Virgil and Gordon would get home. Larry would just get his own plane and then get himself home. With luck, he'll be able to catch the third period of that Penguins-Lightning game. It would be a shame not to watch it.) But of course Virgil  _and_ Gordon decided it was a good idea for him to get himself checked out.

 

"Come on, Larry," Virgil says for the second time in a minute. "It wouldn't hurt to check."

 

"Yeah," Gordon says, agreeing. "Who knows? You might be turning into Frankenstein without you knowing it."

 

Larry sighs. At this rate, he won't even get the chance to see the TV and watch who won. "Guys, I feel completely fine. No Frankenstein's disease or any other post-lightning strike syndrome." The look they give him at that is probably disbelief, and maybe with a hint of worry, too. Larry can't really blame them, but right now, all he wants is to sleep on his own bed.

 

(And maybe catch a re-run of the game. Hopefully.)

 

 

 

* * *

 

(unfinished)

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set some time AFTER the first chapter.
> 
> Damn it. I really need to get these sorted.

_I had a dream the other night_

_About how we only get one life_

_Woke me up right after two_

_i stayed awake and stared at you so I wouldn't lose my mind_

 

 

* * *

 

Virgil wakes up, sweating and panicked and just plain sad. He had a dream. The worst thing was, it wasn't a nightmare. It was about Larry. He came home from a mission to Larry's apartment, where he found Larry cooking. (It was just pancakes, but Virgil found it so damned delicious.) He had hugged Larry then, before kissing him more than once. Their greeting must've lasted for a while, because the pancakes were already cold by the time he got a chance to eat it. They talked, about nothing and everything all at once. Virgil grins all the time, staring right at Larry.

 

That was when he realized something was wrong. Where there used to be a hockey stick on the wall behind Larry's, there was none. Looking around, he saw that there was no trace of ice hockey everywhere. Which was impossible. The only thing Larry could possibly love more than Virgil was ice hockey. There was no way...

 

It had to be dream.

 

Larry was really dead.

 

He stared right at the ceiling above him, tears escaping as he remembers how good it had felt. How right it was.

 

It felt as if he was the one stuck in a never-ending nightmare. Where Larry was dead and it was all just  _wrong, wrong, wrong_!

 

He sat up, his head in his hands. He heard the ticking of the clock in the deafening silence of the room. The  _tick-tock tick-tock_  felt impossibly loud. He followed it for a few seconds, letting it soothe him.

 

He sat there for minutes, letting the sounds of the night fill his mind. The chirping of the nightingale... the crashing waves of the ocean... the gentle wind blowing outside... it all seemed in sync with the lonely clock hung on his wall.

 

That was why, when he heard a new sound joined out of nowhere, he jolted.

 

It was rhythmic and melodious, and so painfully not in sync with everything else that it just begged to be noticed.

 

He stood up, moving towards the door. It felt like it had come from the living room. He opened the door to listen to it better, only to almost fall down out of shock.

 

It was a guitar. (John must've come down. The only one who plays the guitar in the family right now, because the other one is  _dead_.) The sounds of the strings being picked, forming one chord then another felt achingly familiar. Virgil recognized the song, even if he didn't know the name of the song. It was in Larry's playlist. (Ever since  _that day_ , Virgil copied the playlist in Larry's MP3 player into his phone, occasionally listening to it while on missions. It felt strangely calming, to have at least one part of Larry with him at all times.) Virgil remembered that it was made by an old band. An old, old band that was actually pretty good once you stopped thinking about how old the music was.

 

There was no singing to accompany the guitar. It was so uncharacteristic of John that he wondered if John was feeling all right. It was far from the first time that John had come down to play a guitar in the middle of the night, and he always sings. (Even if was a bit softly. Between the two oldest Tracy brothers in the family, John is the more considerate one. He's good like that.)

 

He walked down the hallway, careful not to make any sounds and wake his brothers. The guitar playing continued on. John must not have been aware that Virgil's awake. Virgil peeked from the top of the stairs. His heart sunk when he saw that there was no one there. John must've been in the kitchen. In a way, it made sense. The guitar sounded too soft for it to be in the living room. He started down the stairs, straining to keep hearing it, to listen to it better. His mind automatically supplied him the words to the song. It took everything in Virgil's willpower to  _not_  sing. He made sure he didn't.

 

But several moments later, he heard whispers, and the guitar abruptly went silent.

 

Shit.

 

Steeling himself, he continued making his way down. The damage was already done, but he'd still like to see John. Maybe they could talk about the old times, of past Christmases spent together. Maybe he could even rope John into playing a song with him. Maybe-

 

"Hello, Virgil."

 

Virgil jumped, hand going to his hammering heart as he stared at EOS' hologram in front of him. "Dammit, EOS, don't scare me like that!"

 

"My apologies," EOS said. Her orb bobbed a little, almost reminiscent to a nod. "I didn't mean to startle you. What are you doing up at this hour?"

 

Virgil looked around. That was when he saw the guitar lying on the ground. (If Virgil didn't know any better, he'd say it was Larry who had played just moments earlier. He always played while sitting on the ground, and would always leave the guitar there afterwards. Scott always ribbed him about it, because the guitar always tripped someone. It was by pure luck that no one ever fell on top of it. Still, Larry never changed his habit.) But there was no one around, except for Virgil and EOS. "EOS," Virgil said, turning back to face the orb's holographic feed. "Was anyone else here?"

 

"No. Why?" EOS seemed a bit defensive. Virgil tried his best to suppress his smile. She never was good at hiding her emotions.

 

"I heard someone playing the guitar a few moments ago."

 

EOS's orb turned to the side, as if she was looking at something. But just as quickly, she turned back to face Virgil. "I think it's best for you to go back to sleep, Virgil," she said softly. "It's been a long day."

 

Virgil frowned. "I'm sure I heard someone playing."

 

"You must've been dreaming," EOS insisted. The color in her LED's turned red.

 

"Bullshit," Virgil spat, crossing his arms. "I know what I heard. So own up and tell me, EOS!" Virgil didn't know why he was so mad. Maybe he was exhausted and the fact that EOS was hiding things had touched on his nerves more than he admitted. And maybe seeing the guitar helped with that. "I know the guitar isn't supposed to be there. Someone's moved it, and it can't be you."

 

EOS's hologram moved a bit closer towards Virgil. "You are tired, and that guitar is a figment of your imagination. No one played it. And maybe it fell on its own. I didn't know since I didn't see it happen."

 

Virgil stared at EOS. He blinked. Once. Twice. Looking back to the guitar, he sighed. "I guess you're right. It could've fallen by itself." He looked back at EOS and offered her the best smile he could muster. "I'm sorry, EOS. I just had a bad dream."

 

EOS hummed, contemplating. "Do you want to talk about it?"

 

Virgil immediately shook his head. "It's my own shit, so I'm the one who should deal with this."

 

EOS's halo bobs, almost reminiscent to a nod. Virgil almost smiled at her efforts. "If I may ask..." EOS's halo mived away from Virgil. She seemed a bit defensive, and he had no idea why. "What was it about? Your dream, I mean."

 

Virgil sighed again. He knew the answer. And if EOS had asked the question every day ever since  _that day,_ the answer would be the same every single time. "Larry."


End file.
